


Wells, Wolcott and Harkness

by nowhere_dawn_death_phan



Category: Torchwood, Warehouse 13
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationship, M/M, ianto is referenced briefly, not so much, woolly and helena is platonic, woolly and jack?, woolly is hopelessly crushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22721305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhere_dawn_death_phan/pseuds/nowhere_dawn_death_phan
Summary: Jack Harkness arrives in London in 1893 and runs into an old friend. Only this time, she’s not alone…
Relationships: david wolcott/jack harkness
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Wells, Wolcott and Harkness

When he first laid eyes on Ianto Jones, it felt to Jack like his entire universe was collapsing in upon itself. As though the earth had torn apart on its axis and the realigned pieces hadn’t come together exactly as they should have. It felt to Jack, for one seemingly eternal moment, that he was looking into the eyes of a ghost.

—————————–

“Woolly, come on!”  
“Really, HG, if this is just another ploy to find me a man with whom I may while away my evenings, I strongly suggest you tell me in advance in future so I may at least-“  
She’s led him to the mouth of an alleyway. A dark alleyway. A cold alleyway. A dirty alleyway, but an alleyway nonetheless. Why on Earth is he here? It’s a Saturday night. He could be drinking or smoking or dancing or catching up on paperwork or organising the shelf stack but no. He’s in an alleyway. He really needs to stop trusting HG when it comes to these things.

There’s movement from the end of the alley and somebody steps out into the light. Helena moves forward to greet him, and Wolcott, loyal as ever, follows.  
The man is taller, a little taller than David himself, with a pompadour hairstyle that in Wolcott’s opinion doesn’t suit his face shape in the slightest and the sort of half-smile that is easy in its arrogance. In short - he’s a handsome bastard and he damn well knows it.

“Thank you for waiting.”  
“Not at all.” Ah, he’s American. Marvellous.  
“Woolly, this is Jack Harkness, the newest member of the Torchwood Institute. He’s on loan to the London branch from Torchwood Three while he finds his feet.”  
Wolcott accepts the hand that is extended to him and smiles a smile he does not feel like smiling, trying to force some increment of priggish smugness into his voice. “Ah, so you lot finally decided you needed our help then?”  
“I didn’t catch your name,” Jack says, making no effort to relinquish his grip.  
“Warehouse Agent David Wolcott.”  
“Nice to meet you, Warehouse Agent David Wolcott. And no, we don’t require the help of Warehouse 12, I just owe Miss Wells a little…demonstration.”  
Wolcott glances between the two of them. “I’m not so sure I follow.”  
“You don’t need to,” Jack replies, and David is just about to retort that since Helena’s brought him along, he might, in fact, need to know of any prior arrangements when Jack pulls a gun from his pocket.  
It’s a six-shot revolver, slightly tarnished but in good quality. Jack spins it loosely on his finger and looks up at David. “You might want to hold onto your hat, Mr Wolcott,” and before he can ask for clarification, Jack has shot himself through the head.

The retort of the gun is loud in the alleyway and Wolcott flinches. He can’t abide guns. Not proper guns. Not ones with bullets. He’d rather have his Tesla or his fists in a fight over a real gun any day, and Helena takes hold of his arm to stop him from falling backwards over one of Jack’s legs.  
Shaking off his surprise, Wolcott crams his fists into his pockets, looking down at Jack, whose blood is pooling at his feet, soaking through his socks. Realisation dawns in his eyes, and when Jack stands up and dusts himself off a few minutes later, Wolcott isn’t even slightly fazed.  
“Remarkable.” He says sarcastically, as though he’s just borne witness to no more than a cheap parlour trick, and Jack looks slightly offended.  
“It’s not an artefact,” Helena says. “The only artefact with the ability to immortalise the user was lost sixty years ago, and won’t be activated again until two-thousand and ten.”  
When Wolcott glares at her out of the corner of his eye, she shrugs. “You can disapprove of my time-machine all you want, Woolly. I’m not going to stop using it.”  
“It’s unethical, that’s all I’m saying.”  
“You’re welcome to say that. I, for one, am rather proud of it.”  
“You would be.” He mutters though he’s smiling.

“How long are you in London for, Jack?” Helena asks, and Wolcott prickles. First name basis already. He doesn’t like that. It’s usually only her conquests that are referred to by their first names. He’s the only one she has a nickname for though.  
“Until they send for me again, Helena.” Oh, yes. Yes, they’ve definitely…Yes. Right then. At least he’s not calling her HG. Only Wolcott gets to call her HG.  
“When will that be?”  
Wolcott rolls his eyes. She might at least wait until he’s out of earshot to start flirting, give him some deniability at least.  
“No idea. They thought Torchwood One might have a little more idea about my…little gift. Besides, the nightlife in Cardiff is just so dull. London has far more to offer.”  
Wolcott glances at the bloody cobbles at his feet instead of looking at Jack, chewing the inside of his cheek, gathering the folds of his cloak around himself protectively.  
“We’ll have to meet up again sometime soon, oughtn’t we, Helena?”  
“I think we ought.”  
There’s a whoosh of air as Jack strolls past him, dropping his hand on Wolcott’s shoulder as he passes. “Please to meet you, Wolcott.”  
“S-Same to you, Agent Harkness.”

Helena turns to watch Jack stroll out of sight, and after a moment, Wolcott turns also, the two friends standing shoulder to shoulder.  
“Helena?”  
“Yes?”  
“Have-“ he swallows thickly, “-have you charmed him?”  
She laughs. “Yes, Woolly.” A beat. “But I rather think so have you.”


End file.
